Unspoken
by Ky03elk
Summary: Sometimes the words we want to say merely linger between us, and we are left searching for a reason why they have yet to be spoken. A moment between 5x19 and 5x20


Thank you to honeyandvodka, for taking the voices in my head and making sense of them!

This is the result of trying to fill in time while I waited for the 100th episode to start here. A one shot that fills the space between 5x19 and 5x20.

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**Disclaimer: The words maybe, the rest; Not mine!**

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As she moves around the room, he can't help but watch. His mouth keeps opening and closing slightly with the words he wants to say but unable to voice.

Kate folds her pink sweatshirt, and holds it over the half empty suitcase. From his point of view, he thinks it's more half full. She stills, the shirt hovers and he conjures all his mind's power to stop the shirt from entering the suitcase.

Half empty. Half full.

The internal debate appears to be decided and she moves to her left and slides it underneath the pillow. _Her_ pillow, and as she raises an eyebrow, her gaze captures his.

"This going to be safe here."

His smirk matches her own, and he nods slightly. "I will do my best to resist the urge to try it on!" Although holding it as he sleeps alone tonight is a guarantee that doesn't need to be voiced.

Smiling at him, her smirk disappears as she searches his features. Years of observing him as much as he observes her is a clue that something is amiss.

Bending down she reaches for the white fluffy slippers that have taken up residence next to _her_ chair. They are about to join the rest of the belongings in the suitcase, when his groan fills the room.

"What?" She tries, she hopes enough, to mask the annoyance that creeps into her exclamation. "What's wrong?"

A shrug of his shoulders is all he gives and the air becomes heavy with the words that once again are not being said. Moving forward, despite the ball being firmly in his court, Kate strides past the corner of the bed, a determination she doesn't feel punctuating her steps.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, she faces him as he lounges almost awkwardly on the chair.

"Seriously, what's happening here?" Her words cause him to shift. He mirrors her stance, elbows on knees, adjusting slightly, as the pressure becomes too much on his newly healed right one.

"Nothing, it's just. . . do the slippers really need to leave?" – _Do you_? But these words, the more important ones, stay unsaid. He can almost see them lingering in the air, unspoken between the two of them.

Apparently not on the same page; are they ever in their personal lives? Kate lets out a throaty laugh. "Do you want to wear them too?"

As her words result in nothing; not a smirk, not a one liner, hell not even an imitation eye roll, she realises she is missing more than just a quip.

"Castle, what's happening here? Is it the post birthday blues? Your knee?" She is grasping at straws and she knows it. Yet as her eyes lock with his, they hold for a moment, before Castle's drift to the suitcase on the bed.

A sigh escapes her lips, before the bottom one becomes trapped between her teeth. "I . . . You. . ." The words stutter as her mind races to catch up to this new development, as much as he fretted and bemoaned her previous packing in January, the aftermath of Meredith, encompassed most of her thoughts at that moment.

She slides off the edge of bed, kneeling before him, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth is noticed by both. Prior memories of this position flitter through both their minds.

Kate continues moving forward though, until her forehead rests against his and she closes her eyes. He swears he is close enough to feel her long eyelashes brush his checks. Holding onto that sensation he opens his mouth, gathering the courage to voice at least some of what is going through his mind.

"Do you have to take so much? The slippers are. . ." (_home, _he so desperately wants to say _home_) ". . . needed here too, from time to time." If she hears the unspoken words, she does her best to push it down in case she is wrong, imagining things, imaging that he's saying what she wants to hear. There are moments in the dark, as he curls in behind her, that she wonders why he hasn't asked yet. Ponders what clues he might be waiting on, before he invites her to take the big step of moving in.

"You're right." His eyes snap open and glaze over, those words may never have been spoken in regards to him before. He needs a moment to savour them, bask in their brilliance, before a quick flick to his check, brings him back down to earth. "About the slippers." A playful eye roll appears. "I'll leave them here. I do use them most mornings." Bumping her forehead into his gently she continues softly "Anything else you happen to be overly attached too?"

-_You_- But again the words remain silent. He searches for a reason why they have yet to be spoken, but places it, like so much of them, into the later basket. "I really like the short shorts, especially the camo ones. They could stay. Oh. And that black strapless dress. I have reasons for wanting that here. My ability to stand for longer periods of time needs to be better tested." The humour is thankfully back into his features, underlined with more than a bit of heat.

A smile spreads slowly across her face, starting with her lips and settling in her eyes. He savours for a moment the image of them against the nearest door, the smooth black silk skirt being wrinkled as he pushes it higher up her waist.

"Yeah, I can do that." And her words are laced with a fire that so often ignites between them. A fire that he hopes never dims and he leans forward erasing the last inch between them. Capturing her lips with his, the heat turns up a notch.

Pulling back, Kate mimics their earlier position, foreheads touching, before going in for a fleeting kiss. Rising from her knees, she cards her fingers through his hair, pausing as she her mind flickers back to their previous mood.

She tries, oh she _hopes_ he knows that she is trying here, but the words still don't come. The question of why he hasn't asked sits on the edge of her tongue. The pain is almost physical, as it cuts.

Moving back to the suitcase, she finishes packing, adding the last of the essential items. She hopes the fact that it is emptier than on her arrival is testimony enough to the fact that both feet are firmly planted in the door. In his life.

The slippers return to their home on _her _side of the room.

As the sound of the zipper breaks the quiet that has settled between them, she purposely looks at him. Only the mask of façade has taken place across his features. The smile is fake, and she feels no choice but to match it with her own.

"It's Tuesday, give me a day or two to catch up on things and I will be back before you know it." The exchange of slight nods, hides all that is not being said.

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Another day, another case, and they stroll together towards the hospital. The victim of this latest crime apparently made it all this way for nothing.

The conversation which started in the car continues as Castle expands on his theory. He's rather fixated on the why and the where of his missing food and Beckett can't help but hope that it won't result in the need for a full blown investigation. Explaining to Gates the concept of an 'illegal search' the first time round was enough.

The questioning turns on her, and she tries to focus on answering smoothly, pointing out that she hasn't been over since Tuesday, since she wheeled the suitcase out the door.

So much still left unspoken.

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_I appreciate your thoughts?_


End file.
